


Study Break

by chucksnetflixaccount



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coda, Episode: s01e01 A Study in Pink, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Post-Episode: s01e01 A Study in Pink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucksnetflixaccount/pseuds/chucksnetflixaccount
Summary: "When I said I consider myself married to my work, I didn't – " Sherlock's voice stopped in a whisper. Would John understand?----What happened after John and Sherlock went to dinner
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 66





	Study Break

Dinner was a quiet affair. Despite the adrenaline still running high, Sherlock and John mostly ate in silence at the Chinese restaurant. It was not until they were on their way back to Baker Street that their voices became louder, their laughter breathless at times. The few pints at dinner were adding to the lingering adrenaline high.

"Hush! Don't wake up Mrs. Hudson," John whispered as they stumbled up to Sherlock's flat.

"Please," Sherlock laughed and tripped on the stairs. He tried to balance himself and grabbed for John. They both tumbled down giggling. Lying next to each other on the stairs, Sherlock proceeded. "Mrs. Hudson is not even home."

"How do you know?"

"Mr. Chatterjee's curtains are drawn."

"So?"

"Only Mrs. Hudson ever closes them."

"Mrs. Hudson and Mr. Chatterjee?" John was amused. "Good for her. Come on!" He managed to get up and held out his hand for Sherlock.

"If we must." Sherlock took John's hand and heaved himself up with a sigh. "The stairs would have been comfortable enough."

"They really wouldn't."

Sherlock went straight up to the kitchen, tinkering with some lab equipment and turning on the tap. John closed the door and took a look at the sitting room. He was going to move in. It felt so unreal. John's eyes scanned the desk, littered with books and papers. The chairs, comfortable and so very inviting. The skull on the mantel. His heartrate picked up. What was he doing here?

"Drink up." Sherlock shoved a glass of water at John. "You should stay hydrated once the adrenaline wears off. Make yourself comfortable. This chair," he pointed at the chair John had occupied earlier today – a lifetime ago. "It's… You could… It's your chair. Give me your, your coat."

John had absentmindedly taken the glass and now just stared at his host – his flatmate – trying to decipher the life he had found himself in. Was Sherlock nervous? Stuttering seemed out of character for the articulate Sherlock Holmes. Then again, John had only known him for a limited time. Hours, a few days. He had killed a man for him already. John put the glass down and handed over his coat. Sherlock threw it on the couch without giving it a glance.

"I could have done that myself." John laughed. The spell was broken and he relaxed. This was where he belonged.

"Coat rack is downstairs. I forgot." To John's amusement, Sherlock started pacing the room, pretending to clean up a bit.

"How could you possibly forget that?"

"There is a limited number of problems I can process simultaneously."

Sherlock stopped abruptly in front of John. Was there a hint of embarrassment on his face? John smiled to himself.

"Sherlock Holmes has limits?"

"A few." Sherlock grinned back. They were standing in the middle of the room, just a few feet apart.

"Tell me, how many problems are you processing at – " John glanced at his watch. "Three in the morning?"

"Five." Sherlock answered immediately. John raised his eyebrows in a dare to elaborate.

"One." Sherlock raised a finger to count along his explanation. "How did the cab driver get a sponsor for his killings? Two." He raised another finger, his voice picking up speed. "Who or what is Moriarty? Three. How do I explain the misunderstanding at Angelo's? Four. What is the most effective disruption of Mycroft's upgraded surveillance? Five. We should make sure Lestrade is not looking for any CCTV of tonight's shooting. It would be detrimental to – "

"Three. Go back to three." John interrupted. Sherlock's mouth snapped shut. His eyes fixated on John. Had he given himself away? How could he let this slip? Understanding, he read in John's face. Loyalty. Determination. Hope.

"What happened at Angelo's?"

Sherlock stood frozen in the middle of the room. Ever so carefully, John inched one step closer. Finally, Sherlock gathered his wits and answered.

"When I said I consider myself married to my work, I didn't – " Sherlock's voice stopped in a whisper. Would John understand?

"I am not asking to get married." John answered.

"Good."

"Good."

Sherlock's mind was racing, as was his heart. He scanned John's face, his eyes, mouth, eyes, mouth, eyes. John took another step closer and Sherlock met him halfway. All the adrenaline, all the thrills of the day, all the scares poured out in a series of frantic kisses.

John grabbed at Sherlock and tried to remove his clothes. There were too many layers to peel back. John's kisses became sloppy while he was preoccupied with Sherlock's jacket. Sherlock smiled into John's mouth and broke their kiss. He was panting while John kept grabbing at his clothes.

"Alright, alright." Sherlock laughed. Relief flooding all his senses. "John, I've got you. How about we relocate?"

"Will you get rid of all these clothes?"

"Gladly." Sherlock smiled. He took John's hand and guided him upstairs.


End file.
